What true hurt is
by XxSinisterSlavexX
Summary: When Alfred wins the revolutionary war, the taste of winning is bitter as he watched a certain scotsman try to comfort a broken hearted brit. Was it really worth it? crap sumary T T;.. ScotEng. Rating will go up.


It was raining that day. The final day of the American Revolutionary War. It was a day that took all the fond memories, and ripped them to pieces. The happiness replaced with bitter confusion, love swallowed up by anger and hate. Screams for freedom resonated ripped through the storm, sounding more louder than any war cry.

That was the day Alistair Kirkland saw what true hurt was. He and his men hung back as they stood on the rainy battle ground. Just ahead was the two blondes held responsible for this war. Arthur looked more fierce than he could recall.

Emerald eyes shining like a freshly polished jewel, gun pointed up with no sign of shaking like he normally would, his stance tall and proud.

But the younger boy the gun was aimed at stood just as tall and proud. He couldn't hear the exchange of words. His green eyes widened as he watched his younger brother charge at american, easily throwing his muskett to the ground, leaving a deep scratch along the side.

Somehow, thinking back to it, Alistair knew that the scar on the gun, was never as deep as the pain that filled the heart of his british brother.

He felt his annoyance bubble up as he watched the smaller blonde dropped his own muskett. But that was quickly replaced with realization. He couldn't shoot Alfred. His brother loved him that much he was willing to give up his pride as the British Empire, just so he wouldn't hurt that annoying brat.

Anger filled the scott's eyes, anger held for the american. He knew Arthur had truely tried to care for him, since he knew full well that Arthur had a horrible childhood, no thanks to him of course.

He knew that Arthur wanted to give Alfred the love as a child he never had. And this was what he thanked him with?

He didn't realize the american army were walking away, chanting out the word 'FREEDOM' , leaving behind the single lonely man. The british army slowly sunk back the other way, the lose sinking in their brains. Alistair stood there as he watched his brother scream and cry his hurt to the earth.

His eyes caught site of a single blue coat approaching his brother. He instinctively started towards his brother, growling in rage. They got their independance, what the fuck do they want with Arthur now? He was at his lowest, did they not know how much pain this was causing his little brother. Just as the figure stopped infront of Arthur, reaching a hand out, Alistair raised his own weapon.

"DON'T YA DARE FUCKIN' TOUCH 'IM!" He roared out, his accent incredibly thick from pure rage. He slowly realized it was a french uniform. _'Francis..!' _his mind growled out. He was one of the nations to help that whelp gain his damn independance.

Slowly stalking up to the two, he kept his rifle pointed at the frenchman. Francis seemed to know that dark side of the scotish man, slowly backing away from Arthur.

Even Arthur himself seemed lost for words for his eldest brothers protective behaviour. This sudden behaviour had them both stumped.

But that didn't hold the fact that Alistair placed his finger on the trigger, glaring daggers at the frenchman. Francis got the hint and slowly backed away.

Once he was out of ear shot, Alistair leaned down and hugged Arthur lightly, almost afraid the smaller male would break in his arms. That fear was wiped away when the blonde threw his arms around his older brother, letting out a weak cry.

His younger brother.. former brother.. just left him, in the most painful way as well. He needed someone to hold, he needed to be cared for.

He knew Alistair was never the brotherly figure to him when he was little. But at that moment, he was just glad he was there for him.

Arthur didn't know when he slipped into unconciousness, he didn't notice Alistair screaming out at rage towards someone. He didn't feel himself being tucked between a bed and blanket.

* * *

><p>Francis slowly backed away, almost afraid the Scotsman would surely open fire on him. He kept his eyes on them as he walked back, slightly taken back when Alistair scooped the brit into a tender hug. His shoulders collided with another's, jumping at the silent being beside him.<p>

Looking over, Francis couldn't place weither it was regret or jealousy, but something was stirring on Alfred's sky blue eyes as he watched his ex caretaker crumble and fall. Something in the frenchman almost snapped.

He helped Alfred gain independance, for what? To watch the one he love fall apart right before his eyes? He only helped for he wanted Arthur to realize he had other important matters then ruling the entire world. This wasn't what he wanted.

"Why is it him.." Alfred's voice droned out. The emotion in his eyes were all gone, his voice the only thing to show his heart break. The frenchman knew why Alfred gained independence He wanted to be an equal to Arthur, so arthur would praise him, smile more for his success. He even knew the american held strong feelings, more then brotherly love.

Alistair seemed to have spotted them, for there was a roar of rage, the Scotsman spewing out venimous words. "YA GOT WHAT YE FUCKIN' WAN'ED! WHY CAN' YA LEAVE 'IM ALONE!"

From the corner of his eyes, the frenchman caught Alfred flinching at the words, his eyes widening at the site in Alistairs arms. Arthur almost seemed dead as the scotsman held him, his head lolling to the side, his green eyes long since lost their spark, clear paths of tears flowed down his cheeks.

As they watched the red-head gather the shaking brit into his arms and walk off, Francis couldn't help but notice Alfred hastly wiping his eyes. That was the day, Francis Bonnefoy saw what true hurt was.


End file.
